


I've a habit of misreading, and you don't follow rules

by onlycrooks



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Dyslexia, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Learning Disabilities, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlycrooks/pseuds/onlycrooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/2747.html?view=3654843#t3654843">prompt</a>: Hermann has dyslexia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've a habit of misreading, and you don't follow rules

**Author's Note:**

> a) This is based on my personal knowledge and some extended research, so it won't necessarily be what all dyslexics experience. If you feel I've gotten something outright wrong, though, do speak up. I'll take constructive criticism and consider and revise as necessary.
> 
> b) German education varies too much for me to write this as accurately as I'd like, and I can't tell what part of Germany Hermann's hometown counts as.
> 
> b.2) My knowledge of German schooling does not extend very far at all, and what little I know of the language comes from my mother and The Internet, and my mom hasn't spoken it in years, so corrections are welcome.
> 
> c) Sorry if I ramble, but... _science prompt!_

It takes seven months of whining and bribery for Newt to get his hands on Hermann Gottlieb's complete PPDC dossier. Everything, from the hospital record of Hermann's birth, to the results of his initial physical and psych evals, to Marshall Pentecost's notes, are inside, but Newt isn't interested in those- well, maybe he is, but they're not his first priority. He isn't exactly sure what is, but he knows he'll recognize it when he sees it.

Ten minutes in, he finds it.

* * *

Hermann is working on tonight's homework, and it's taking forever. The science and social studies weren't too bad, but he's still got to do his maths, German and English. The worst three. Tonight's language assignment is spelling, which Hermann can't do at all, and he's trying hard not to be a baby.

Pater and Mutter are sitting with him in the doctor's waiting room, which only makes it harder to stay calm, because he feels like they and everyone else can see that he can't do his child's work.

Bastien says he's stupid- _Familien-Idiot!_ \- and Hermann he worries he is, even though Bastien is younger and four seats short of a majority himself.

What else does could make school so hard when the rest of the family has no problem?

He gets confused by all the sounds letters can make in _one_ language, so it takes him more time to match the sound to the letter. Learning German _and_ English at the same time means he has to keep track of two sets of noises that sometimes sound the same and other times don't sound similar  _at all,_ and most days, he wants to pull his hair and cry.

At least he has a system for reading now. He's memorized how to spell a word for every letter, so when he isn't sure what o sounds like, he just has to think of his o word: wilkommen. He has to do extras for German, because his teachers want him to spell with the umlaut, but at least German spelling has rules and isn't too hard to follow. Remembering gender is hard, though, and he has to sound out more long words than his classmates.

English is worse. He never volunteers to read in class- he used to ask to go to the lavatory when he knew English was next, or make himself worry so much he'd get sick, but Frau Krupke doesn't let him leave- and only reads the minimum amount.

Last year's teacher, Mr. Cooper, was American, "from Iowa in the Midwest." Some students had laughed at how he spoke German, but Hermann had liked it. Mr. Cooper spoke sharply, and even though some of his vowels were different, the words had sounded clearer. Mr. Cooper had noticed that Hermann hated reading in class and made a deal: Hermann didn't have to read aloud in class if he arrived early or stayed late and read just for him.

Frau Krupke says Mr. Cooper was too nice and Hermann's just lazy. He's very smart, after all, yet his work is sloppy, his handwriting atrocious, and his marks too low.

Hermann doesn't like her.

When she gives out their homework sheet and it says _In each horizontal list, find and circle the correctly spelled word,_ he thinks he might hate her, because he hates spending twenty minutes _per row_ checking them letter by letter to figure out which one isn't a word- except they _all_ are. How is it his fault that he can't just look at three bunches of letters and know that one of them has the i before the e and one has an extra l? It's worse when it's three different letter bunches and he just has to know how to spell words he never uses.

He's lucky tonight, because Fau Krupke didn't give out the _C_ _opy each word five times_  sheets- the ones Hermann always gets back with notes to _write his letters correctly_ and _don't use capital letters, just because they're easier._ Why not? It's easier, makes the letters easier to read. And who cares if his o's start at the bottom instead of the top?The only time person who complains about them is Frau Krupke.

Maths doesn't use so many letters, which Hermann appreciates, but numbers aren't much better.

_Is that a 2, a 5 or a 7?_

None of the above, it's his teacher's weird way of writing 1.

And then there are the symbols:  _x ÷ + -_

There are so many words for what to do with them. Take away? Multiply? Add? Minus? Plus? Subtract? Times?  _Combine?_

_What is he supposed to do with that one?_

The only one that doesn't get confusing is division, which is always _divide_. Then he'd found out about _long division_ and the next kind symbol.

It makes him angry, because he likes numbers. They have patterns and rules, and they don't break them. If he doesn't have to say what he's doing or have a teacher hovering over his shoulder, watching and distracting him, he does just fine. At home, he can go to his room and work in peace. His parents don't interrupt him when he's working, and his siblings have learned to play quietly. He may not be as big as his brothers or as sneaky as Karla, but Hermann can make his point just fine.

"Hermann Gottlieb?"

All three Gottliebs look to the doorway. A woman is holding the door open and smiling softly. "Come through."

Two weeks later, the day before his tenth birthday, Hermann learns the word  _Legasthenie_.

* * *

Newt slumps back in his chair, whistling and rubbing  his eyes. Almost everything make sense now.

Almost.

"Found what you were looking for, did you?"

Reluctantly, Newt peeks through the fingers of his right hand. Yep, it's _Dr. Gottlieb_ , scowling and clutching his cane in trembling hands. Newt has emperical evidence and a formally conducted but as-yet informal study that say his rival's codition worsens with his moods, in particular anger. It's not pleasant knowledge and wasn't gained by simply asking around, but Newt likes to have a firsthand understanding of the people around him.

"Well?"

"I, uh, I guess you could say I did?"

"Worth the wait, I hope. How long was it? Six... seven months?" Hermann asks, too lightly for Newt's comfort. "Though I can't say there's anything particularly interesting in my dossier. The record of my complaints, should you be looking to rectify your slovenly behaviour, can be found in yours as well."

"I'm not  _slovenly!_ I'm-"

"A pig?"

Hermann's biting his cheek. Newt knows that move, what it means. His rigid colleague only does it when he's about to lose his patience.

"Don't you want to know what I found?" Newt asks. He's never been able to resist pushing.

"No, I don't. All I want is to finish my calculations, but I cannot until you _get off my research!_ " Hermann bellows, pointing at Newt's legs.

Newt looks down at his chair. He appears to be sitting on a number of papers. "Oops?"

He gets a glare in return, accompanied by a stiff hand held out for the crumpled papers, which Hermann takes without comment.

Probably best to leave this alone for a while, Newt thinks. He'll return Hermann's dossier, and in a day or two, when Hermann's calmed down, they'll talk.

* * *

"So... you're dyslexic."

Newt winces. Two and a half hours. He went two and a half hours without saying anything about it, and he'd spent half of that time giving the papers back and assuring people that, yes, he'll get follow through on his promises, no, there's no need to pin him to the wall, he's a man of his word, _put me down_.

"Well deduced, Newton. At least one of us can read," Hermann snaps- both his pencil and sentence.

_At least he's talking?_

"Come on, Herm- Dr. Gottlieb." In this instance, Newt can't help but think maybe pushing one button at a time is the better course of action this time. "You know that's not what I meant! And I didn't go looking just to look!"

"No? Why did you, then?"

"Why'd you let me?" Newt counters, not sure how to explain himself beyond "You act weird. I wanted to know why."

"Perhaps I foolishly hoped  you would see your error and leave me alone?" comes the acidic reply. Hermann's glaring at his pencil as if it betrayed him.

"That would have been stupid," Newt insists, "and you know me too well."

"I didn't in the beginning."

"No, but you would have figured it out soon enough."

"And done what? Told Marshall Pentecost not to release my confidential dossier to my colleague?"

Newt has to admit Hermann has a point. They lapse into silence, the latter busy with his numbers and the former with his own problem.

Push or stop? Push or stop? Push or... Who's he kidding? Push.

"Is that why you don't like working with me? The dyslexia?"

Halfway through sharpening his pencil, Hermann snaps the point again.

"I'll take that as a yes. Am I really that bad? I mean, sure, things can get a bit messy in here and I do think better out loud, and there was the one time I hit you with a bit of brains, but that was an accident- how could I have known it hadn't been preserved properly and gone gooey? At least I don't play loud music."

"Noise is not the only form of distraction, Newton," Hermann says primly. "Nor are kaiju brains _down my shirt_. Simply being in a... crowded environment is distracting. Your little experiments wiggle constantly- as do you! You never just sit and work, and it is supremely difficult to focus on the order of operations, a task any child ought to be capable of following, when the person next to me is tapping away and dancing to himself!" Hermann continues, but he starts switching between English and German.

As soon as he realizes he's doing it, he stops, expression mortified.

It's really, really cute.

"Ah- excuse me. That was..."

"The most High German I've heard in years?" Newt chortles. "It's even more incomprehensible than I'd remembered."

"Largely due to my ineptitude with the language. I could never speak as well as my siblings," Hermann bites out.

The chortle dies in Newt's throat, because that is some long held self-loathing. He hadn't meant it like that. It's easy to forget that Hermann would have had a lot of trouble when he was younger- and still does, if those complaints are because Newt is _that_ difficult to work with, which, god, is he really that bad?- because Hermann's intellect is the first thing that comes to his mind when Newt thinks of him. All right, second. After stuffy- but before A+ Bum.

Which brings them to Newt's big question.

"How come you decided to do math, then? Isn't it hard for you- especially all the theoretical, can't-use-everyday kind? Isn't that harder for you?"

"I have always enjoyed maths," Hermann replies softly, gazing sadly at his paper. "The way it's taught is flawed, too inconsistent and reliant on verbal communication, but numbers are ever more constant than letters. They don't change because someone says them differently. Their rules are simple and their applications endless. As to my choice to pursue higher math? What other kind is there? One plus one is two, yes, but it can equal three as well. Yet mathematics remains the steadfast foundation of our existence, and even the slightest shift will change absolutely everything!

"So yes, Newton, I may require a moment or two longer to question why a period has entered my mathematical equation- but only when I must use someonen else's data, as decimal points are abhorrently imprecise, which we cannot afford here- and need to check whether I'm looking at an o, theta, zero or someone's messily written a, it does not impede my delight in mathetmatics!"

Hermann is glaring at him, back drawn ramrod straight in his chair and chin up, proud of himself and daring Newt to give him a reason he shouldn't be. It's a complete reversal of his earlier appearance. Dr. Gottlieb is back, and his drab, precisely ordered feathers are ruffled. It's endearing, how fast he can go back and forth between the two.

There is nothing, nothing at all, Newt can blame for what does next. He isn't sure why he does it, but he does.

Grabbing Hermann Gottlieb's face and giving him what Newt can only describe as "a massive smooch," the kind that would make his grandmother proud, isn't something he usually thinks about. (He only puts it on Hermann's cheek, at least. He remembers Granny Geiszler's advice: "Never surprise a man with the first kiss. They bite when surprised." Unless she said women?)

For his part, Hermann just blinks at him. Blinks some more. Switches to gaping. Eventually comes with, "Wha?"

Newt cringes. "What?"

Hermann's kind of cute when he's speechless. It's rare, seeing him flummoxed, and if he weren't on the verge of blushing himself into a faint, Newt might have been tempted to take a picture.

"You- What? Are you out of your- _Newton!"_

"What? It was just a kiss!"

"Just a kiss!"

"Yes, just a kiss!" Newt shouts. "Stop repeating everything I say!"

"But you kissed me!"

"I know! I was there, Hermann!"

"Why!" Hermann presses, overlooking or not hearing Newt's use of his first name.

"Because I couldn't kiss you if I weren't! What's wrong with you?"

Hermann shakes his head, but when he looks back at Newt, his face is still pink. "Not why were you there. Why did you kiss me?"

Newt shrugs. "I felt like it? I don't know. It's not like I planned it. You just looked so, you know- And I had your face in my hands before I thought about it, and then I was smooching you. These things can happen, you know?"

"I can't say I do- I've never had the urge to a kiss a colleague!"

"Smooch, actually. That was a smooch, not a kiss." The look Hermann gives him is the opposite of impressed, but they're scientists. They should be accurate in their speech. "A smooch involves mainly lip to surface pressure. A kiss- the good kind- is infinitely more complex. There's tongue and suction and-"

"Yes, yes, infinitely more complex."

Newt glares but doesn't bother saying anything back. All he did was show affection. That's it. Instead of accepting it and moving on, Hermann had to demand to know everything about it. Perhaps he'd like a report on the weather outside? If the moon is full? What color socks Newt has on and when he got them?

They sit and sulk quietly, until Hermann slowly clears his throat. "Newton, I... want to apologize."

"You do?" Newt perks up. "I mean, of course you do! ... Why do you want to do that, again?"

Hermann runs his tongue over his lips before he answers. "I realize your intentions were not to rile me up. I simply... got a bit caught up. It's difficult, at times, to be reasonable when I cannot quite recall what we've been saying. Nevertheless, I should not have been rude to you."

And that's the crux of it, isn't? Hermann can't not be dyslexic, any more than Newt can change who he is- the opposite of the ideal work partner for Hermann. Neither of them is at fault, but allowances have to be made sometimes. Not changing his personality doesn't mean Newt can't tone things down a little. He can probably convince the marshall to give him a secondary examination room for dissections, especially if he promises to make the Wei triplets and Aleksis Kaidonovsky help him.

"You're actually rather helpful."

Newt opens his mouth to argue, because he's starting to smell something off, but Hermann raises a hand.

"I'm not saying I appreciate your mess or your constant chatter. They irritate me to no end. But it _is_ easier to figure out how to cope in unfavorable environments with a single distraction, and I have come to find ways of doing so while working with you."

"So I'm really not so bad?"

"You and your field horrify me, Newton, but it is not impossible to work with you."

Newt beams at him. "Not impossible" is Hermann's way of saying "I like."

"Why are you smiling? Stop it. Stop it right now."

"But you like me, Herm!" Newt smiles harder.

"I do not! And would you _please_ stop being so familiar!"

* * *

Over the next few months, Newt makes changes. The're mostly little ones, like not interrupting Hermann when he's in the middle of checking an algorithm and keeping his phone on silent, but some of them are big and must be kept secret from Hermann at all costs.

If he finds out that Newt shouted at Chuck Hansen for disturbing Hermann and almost started a brawl in the mess over it- Newt owes Hercules a massive thank you for grabbing his son before he could do any damage, but he isn't sure if he should buy a thank you basket or smuggle the man some beer- he'll never hear the end of it. Which is why Chuck will not be mentioning it, on pain of everyone finding out who puked on his father's uniform. And didn't tell him. The look on Hansen, Sr.,'s face when he went to put it on had been _murderous._

There's one final change. When Hermann starts to rub his head and scowl, he will always, _always_ , get a smooch. He can grumble all he wants, but until he says no, Newt _will_ give him his damn smooch.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~Posting this kinda late and with less than 20/20 vision, so please pardon the mistakes. I'll go back over it again in the morning.~~
> 
> eta: wow the relationship stuff is so ooc, i'm so sorry


End file.
